Pain Beyond Measure is a Madmans Greatest Pleasure
by Sharptooth
Summary: AU. After 5 years Harry and Hermione return to England to solve a string of murders, all themed with one thing in mind, to torture Harry's battered psyche into oblivion... HP/HG Rated M for violence and sexual references.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling

**Pain Beyond Measure is a Madman's Greatest Pleasure**

She should have realized that she'd find him here. After five years of working together, coupled with seven years of being best friends before that, she knew him perhaps better than he knew himself.

She wished though, that he would stop with the self-abusive behavior. It always made her heart cry out to see him like this. Because she knew him so well she also knew that he wouldn't accept what she had to offer him, especially given the case that they were currently working.

He was sitting at the bar, nursing what appeared to be his second bottle of whiskey. It was always like this when he was in the middle of a particularly disturbing case. At the end of the day he would come here, to the local pub, in an attempt to drink his concerns into oblivion.

That he had demons that most never would experience was certainly true, she could admit that. When you added the tragedies that he had been forced to endure to what he went through on cases like these, well, she could understand why he came here. That didn't mean that she had to like it though.

Even given his now tremendous tolerance to alcoholic beverages, he was well on his way to been quite pissed. His head was down on the counter top, making it seem that he might have passed out. She knew better though. Even thoroughly wasted on the most virulent concoctions known to man, it would take more than two bottles of whiskey to make him unconscious.

She slid onto the bar stool next to him. "Want to talk about it?" she asked softly.

He looked over at her. His eyes were bloodshot and there were streaks down his cheeks. This was going to be a bad one then. Merlin knew that it was already a bad one for her. She wondered, not for the first time, what had possessed them to take these jobs after all the two of them had been through. Hadn't they suffered enough? Was it not enough to go through losing almost everyone they held dear?

He had patently refused to get close to anyone after it was all over. He would have run and squirreled himself away somewhere far away from the wizarding world if she had let him. He often mumbled about Alaska when he wasn't sober. She wondered if maybe they should have left everything behind and just gone away.

But it wouldn't have been him to do so. He had instead gone into law enforcement. It had been the only thing that he had wanted to do, and he decided to make a go of it. Of course, there was no-one that was going to turn him down if he came asking for a job, so he had his pick of the lot when it came to employment.

He had surprised everyone when he didn't go to the Ministry for a job. Instead he had gone to the International Confederation of Wizards and immediately he had become an agent for them. Of course she had gone along with him. Since she was considered almost as big a hero as he was, she had gotten a job right along with him. It was easy to be assigned as his partner, after all, they had already proven that they worked very well together.

So they spent the next five years tracking down killers and psychopaths. Whenever there was a case that the local agencies couldn't handle, they were called in. This was their first time back in England since the war and truthfully, it looked like it was going to be a very difficult time for him.

"Why did it have to be her?" he asked, breaking her out of her reverie. "Why the _bloody fuck _did the sick _fucking _bastard have to do that to her, of all people?" He slammed his shot glass down on the bar, sloshing whiskey over the top.

"I don't know," she whispered.

"She never did nuthin' to nobody," he stated, pointing a finger at her. "She was a good girl, never in any trouble, never making anyone mad…" He ran his fingers through his hair.

"You remember what she looked like that night, when was it?" He was counting on his fingers now.

"Christmas, fourth year," she replied as her voice threatened to break.

"Yeah, that was it… She wore that kind of… wrap around thingy… what the fuck is that called?"

"Sari," she answered. "Yes, I remember. She was beautiful, and she looked really good dancing with you."

"Yeah, she did." He sighed hard. "Oh 'Vati, what happened to you? Why did you have to go and get yourself killed?" He looked at her. "Why did it happen?" he asked again.

"I don't know Harry, but we're going to find out."

"But why would the sick fuck do that to her?" he asked. "I mean, what kind of sick fucker saws off a woman's ti…" She hit him with a silencing spell. Helping him up off the bar stool she led him out the door and apparated him to the flat that they had been put up in while they worked on this case.

When she let him speak again he was upset with her. "Why the bloody hell did you do that for?" he shouted.

"Because," she sighed, you were talking about the case, and anyone could here. Do you really think that Parvati would have wanted everyone to know what was done to her?"

"No," he conceded. He stopped dead in his tracks as thought of something. "Oh God, does Padma know?" He started rummaging through his things, patting his pockets down. She reached over and handed him a small vial. He nodded his thanks and pulled the stopper, downing the potion in one gulp. Smoke poured from his ears for a moment and he shook violently as the concoction did its job.

"She knows," Hermione whispered. "She's in the bedroom. She showed up just as I was leaving to find you. She's not doing well."

He waved his wand at himself and cleaned the stench and stains off of his robes. As quick breath freshening charm later and he was almost back to his old self. "We need to help her Hermione. We need to catch the killer before he strikes again. And," he added, "I have an idea where he's going to strike next…"

**Author's Note: **You never know where your muse is going to take you. I was writing on "Harry Potter's Army: A General's Lament" when this popped into my head and wouldn't get out. So here is installment number one. _I'm a bad man... I'm a very bad man..._


	2. Descent into Madness

******Disclaimer:** I do not own anything other than the story line . All rights belong to J.K. Rowling

**Chapter Two: Descent into Madness**

He sat on the parapet, looking down at the alley in all its splendor late at night. He pulled out his flask and took a long pull on the pungent liquid. Merlin he needed to get out of this cursed fucking business. What had it gotten him after all? What?

He sighed and tucked the flask back into his robes. He looked across the alley to the opposite building. She was there, watching just like him, just as she always had all of his life… well all of it that mattered…

He scanned the alley below him once again. He had been so sure that something was going to happen here. He wasn't really sure why he thought so, but he had come to trust his instincts, and after what had been done to Parvati, well he couldn't help but think maybe there might just be a touch of seer in him this time.

This alley was the closest approach to the residence of one of the women who had made life difficult in his youth. He knew, just knew that what had happened to Parvati had been a statement to him. It was the way the sick _fuckers_ thought, and he had come to understand _psychotic arseholes_ more than he ever thought he would when he decided to take this sick job.

His head whipped around as a sound caught his attention. He knew it was going to happen tonight! Something had been knocked over in the alley. He caught Hermione's eyes and leapt off the roof. His cloak billowed and caught air as he grasped the ends of it. His feet touched the alley and he rolled off to the side just in case of enemy spell fire.

As he came to his feet he noted the soft pop of Hermione apparating in. She always was much quieter than he was when she did that. He crept towards the most likely hiding spot, and old dumpster and slowly drew his wand. He moved around it like a predator going after his prey. He motioned for Hermione to cut off any likely escape route.

As he peered around the corner something let out a screech and vaulted towards him. He flashed his wand towards it and it exploded. He found himself covered in blood, entrails and fur – and was that a tail hanging off of his glasses?

He quickly confirmed that he had indeed performed swift justice on a _bloody _local tabby when Hermione caught sight of him. She looked like she was going to either split a gut from laughing or cover the dumpster in sick.

"Merlin, Harry. Think you could be any more twitchy?" She shook her head and quickly performed a cleaning spell on him. "We should get back to our…" She stopped as feminine scream pierced the night. It was nearby.

"Move!" Harry hissed at her. They scrambled to get free from the dumpster and the surrounding mess and tore off down the alley. They rounded a corner and stopped. It was preternaturally quiet in the alley, and Harry decided that caution just might be the better part of valour.

"_Homonus Revealo_," he incanted as he waved his wand. There was a residual trace of someone three doors down on the left. They crept down to the door, and while the stayed out of a straight path from the entrance Harry nodded to Hermione.

"_Reducto_," she said as she jabbed her wand towards the door. It was blown off its hinges and Harry led the way throwing stunner after stunner inside the entrance towards all the points he could reach.

Hermione followed him in only to see his feet go flying out from under him, and it was only her fast wand work that saved him from cracking his skull on the floor. She looked to see what had upended him and promptly lost her last meal. As she righted herself from her brief sickness she saw that it wasn't just the floor that was covered in fresh blood, the walls and even the ceiling were splattered. It was a wonder that a human body could contain all the blood that was throughout the room.

Harry had already gotten to his feet and was going over to the bed in the corner. There was a young woman on the bed, sprawled out as if she were waiting for a lover to enter her. Her throat had been sliced open all the way down to her spine. Another slice had opened her from her breastbone all the way down her torso to her groin. The resulting cavity had been laid open, and most of her internal organs including her uterus were gone.

He reached down and gently brushed her hair off of her face. A look of pure hatred crossed his face as he gazed down at the victim. They were too late. Romilda Vane, the girl who had stalked Harry during his sixth year, had been brutally murdered despite his efforts to stop it and catch the killer. He let out a sigh and touched his wand to his badge, signaling to their back up that they were needed.

Shortly after there were numerous apparition cracks outside and an auror stuck his head in. The young officer quickly blanched and the sound of his retching could be heard.

Harry shrugged to Hermione and motioned for her to join him outside. They would leave the scene for the aurors to collect evidence. He needed to get away from this.

They exited quietly and made their way across the alley. "Did you see what was done to her?" Hermione whispered. Harry nodded. "It, well it looked like something right out of a bad movie." She brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. The movement of an owl swooping down caught her attention and she pointed it out to Harry. The owl landed on the wall next to Harry and stuck its leg out. He pulled off the letter and unfurled the parchment as it took flight once more. Something sloughed off the parchment and splattered on the ground at his feet. His face lost all expression and he went ashen. He handed the letter to Hermione. It was smeared with blood.

_From hell_

_Mr. Potter  
Sir  
I send you half the knocker I took from the Indian woman. Preserved it for you - the other piece I fried and ate - it was very nice. I may send you the bloody knife that took it off if you only wait a while longer._

_Catch me when you Can Mister Bigshot Potter_

"We have a copycat," Hermione spat out.

"About a century too late," Harry answered. "At least this one can spell better than the one before." He looked around. "He even picked White Chapel," he muttered. "If this sick bastard follows his pattern then I know who's next."

Hermione nodded to him. She had it figured too.

Luna…

**Author's Note: **So I was once again writing on "Harry Potter's Army" when this jumped into my vision again. Maybe it's the toothache I've been fighting for the last couple of hours... maybe it's just that I'm a bad man... but it won't leave me alone.


End file.
